


not god, not us, but something in the middle

by fernfuneral



Series: we’ll hang my halo on the wreck [1]
Category: Hunt Down The Freeman (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, adam dying noises, im sorry for writing hdtf fic im sorry im sorry i didnt mean it im sorry, it's gay but like. in a sad way, mitch ruins everything, the fluff is in a flashback only doe <3, uhh mitch kills adam spoilers for the game srry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernfuneral/pseuds/fernfuneral
Summary: "The ravine that’s been slowly scraped out of his gut since Adam slammed the door in his face is only growing deeper. He’d trusted Adam with his life, had relied on him and Nick more than anyone else in the past twenty years. He’d needed him.Mitchell feels a bit like he’s dying again."or, the final cutscene but it's gay in like. a sad way
Relationships: Mitchell Shephard/Adam (Hunt Down The Freeman), Mitchell Shephard/Nick (Hunt Down The Freeman), Mitchell Shephard/Nick (Hunt Down The Freeman)/Adam (Hunt Down The Freeman)
Series: we’ll hang my halo on the wreck [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853779
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	not god, not us, but something in the middle

It was funny, Mitch mused, how much of a joke his life is. Twenty years. Twenty years spent hating someone for what they did to him, and then it turns out that he should have hated his closest friend instead. He supposes that his misfortune must have given the man in the suit and his “employers”, whoever they were, a good bit of entertainment. Dramatic irony does make for good TV.

The ravine that’s been slowly scraped out of his gut since Adam slammed the door in his face is only growing deeper. He’d trusted Adam with his life, had relied on him and Nick more than anyone else in the past twenty years. He’d needed him. 

Mitchell feels a bit like he’s dying again.

The leather of his gloves creaks slightly against the pressure of his grip, hands clasped in an attempt to keep from punching something. The pain might clear his head, but if he’s going to see Adam again on the Avalon, he’d rather not do so with broken knuckles. Nick looks over at him from where he’s hovering by the wall, a sort of muted concern in his eyes. Mitch wasn’t sure what the other thought of him anymore, and he wasn’t sure Nick knew either.

His breath puffed out into the air in front of him, the roar of the wind masked by the furious roar of blood rushing in Mitchell’s ears. He was angry. Furious. 

Betrayed.

Fundamentally, deeply betrayed. He doesn’t know how Adam was able to look him in the eyes, to pretend that nothing ever happened. He wonders if Adam remembers swinging the crowbar as vividly as Mitchell remembers the feeling of it cracking his skull. If he remembers the way he pulled Mitch’s body across the floor like Mitchell can still feel the weight of shattered teeth in his mouth, the taste of coppery blood flooding his throat. He wonders if Adam remembers any of it at all, beyond the knowledge that he did it. He doesn’t know if the other man would care if he did.

-

-

-

The hull of the Avalon Vale echoes hollowly, a dull rumble as the ship sways slightly on the ocean. If Mitchell strained his ears he could probably hear the shouting of soldiers, awake on the night shift. He doesn’t attempt to.

His bed is warm, although that says less about the temperature on the ship--they still hadn’t gotten around to fixing the main heating system--and more about the fact that he was currently sharing the small bunk space with two other men. Not that he’s complaining. Nick was a furnace in his own right, where he was draped across Mitch’s chest, and Adam had curled up against his side. There was plenty of heat to go around. It was… peaceful. Not that Mitch could ever really let himself calm down, but this was as close as he’d get. 

He could enjoy this for a little while. The ship rocks again, and the small candle burning next to the bunk wavers in an undetectable breeze. Mitch turns his head slightly, looking down at Adam, who had shifted from his position in a tight ball to laying straight, and Mitch realized that Adam had been watching him.

“What the fuck‘re you looking at?” His voice was hushed, colored with wry amusement. Adam narrowed his eyes, a small smile flitting across his mouth, and Mitch couldn’t keep himself from watching the other’s lips, tracing their shape. Said lips shifted into a smirk, and Mitch dragged his gaze back up to meet Adam’s, unrepentant. 

“I could ask you the same thing, _Captain_.” Adam stressed the final word teasingly, leaning forwards. “Was just enjoying the scenery. ‘S that a problem?”

“Go to sleep asshole.” Adam huffed in response, sticking the tip of his tongue out at Mitch. “Wow, real mature.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” 

Mitch leaned forwards to meet Adam, who’d propped himself up on one arm to reach Mitch’s face. They kissed once, nothing more than a chaste press of the lips, and Mitch settled back again, mouth barely touching Adam’s.

“Go the fuck to bed.” He whispered, lips brushing against the other’s.

Adam rolled his eyes but settled back down, curling up next to Mitch, who lowered his arm to rest around the other. At the same time, Nick shifted in his sleep, his arm coming to wrap around Mitch’s torso as he pressed his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. Mitch sat back, eyes fixing on the ceiling.

They’d come a long way. Seven years ago, back when he’d been fresh off of his deathbed and thrown right into the middle of the apocalypse, Mitch never could have done something like this. He still had trouble, sometimes, allowing himself to be vulnerable. But it was easy with Adam and Nick, in a way he hadn’t felt before.

Mitch wasn’t the same angry man he used to be, running around punch-drunk on bitterness and the thought of revenge. Not the man he was two years ago when he’d kissed Adam in a supply closet and left him with the order to never talk about it again. Not the man he’d been a year later when he couldn’t look Nick in the eyes the day after they first slept in the same bed.

It wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t happy. But he was as close to happy as he could get, given the circumstances.

Mitchell thinks he could probably love Adam and Nick, not that he’d tell them that. But he lets himself think it. On nights like these, where he’s the last one awake, lying in bed between them.

He’s willing to learn to love them. Even if it’s hard, even if it terrifies him. Because he wants to be there for them. To give them what they deserve.

He wants to be loved in return. 

-

-

-

The helicopter jostles, signaling their arrival on the ship. Mitchell lifts his head slowly, hand slipping to his gun for a second as he weighed his options. No, no guns. He wanted to savor this. A bullet was more mercy than Adam deserved.

Mitchell thinks that here, in this world he created--that he scraped together from whatever he could grasp with bruised fingers and bleeding palms--he was his own divine retribution.

Nick met his eyes once more as he moved to the door, and there was a reluctant understanding between them. Mitch knew that Nick was aware of what was going to happen when the helicopter’s door opened. He let his gaze linger, let himself memorize the other’s features. Perhaps they’d see each other again after Mitchell does what he needs to do. Perhaps they’d pretend that nothing happened, attempt to return to normal, whatever that meant for them, but Mitch knew that in doing this he was losing them both. 

He was okay with that. He had to be.

The lines around Nick’s eyes creased as he offered Mitch something that wasn’t quite a smile. His hand rose to rest over his heart, and he tapped once, twice. And then he turned around, and Mitchell knew it was over.

The air around him was cold. 

As Nick left the bay of the helicopter, silhouetted against the Avalon’s floodlights, Mitchell let himself grieve. For a future he never could have had, for the man he left behind when he took that deal, for the men he was leaving behind now. A part of him longed for another option, for a way to escape this, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to allow Adam to keep breathing, couldn’t let himself entertain the idea of forgiveness because he wouldn’t have anything left for himself. Mitchell had been scraping himself raw for twenty years, and to let that go meant that all of it was forfeit. 

He hears Adam yell at Nick from outside and feels the cool rush of fury fill his veins. He expected to be manic, nearing feral with rage, but instead, his stomach drops with a bone-deep chill. He’s calm. He can do this. This is everything he’s wanted for almost half of his life. Mitchell can’t afford to dread what’s to come. 

And then it was time for him to leave, to step out of the helicopter and end the battle he’d been waging on his own for two decades. He’s not ready. He’s never felt more prepared. Mitchell stood, and he half expected to collapse right there, but his legs were steady underneath him.

One step.

Another.

His heart is pounding.

Two strides and he’s reached the doorway. He hesitates on the ramp before he catches a glimpse of Adam’s face. 

He walks the rest of the way with purpose.

His eyes meet Adam’s, and Mitchell watches as the realization hits the other man. Anticipation is heavy in his gut as he sees fear flit across Adam’s face, walls lowered in his surprise, before they slam down once more, expression blank as he mouths a word to himself.

And then Adam is running. Turning tail like the coward he is, attempting to escape the fate ahead of him. Mitch feels strangely disconnected as he hears himself shout the other’s name, as his body jolts into a determined sprint. Perhaps Adam has been running from his fate for twenty years, perhaps twenty seconds. He has no escape now.

The chase lasts for what feels like hours, milliseconds, centuries, and then Adam is ahead of him and Mitchell slams back into his body, furious and hungry for blood. His hand is reaching for his gun before Adam can react and Mitch fires a shot with truer aim than ever before. The other sprawls to the deck of the ship, chest heaving as he hoists himself up to one working leg. Mitchell’s ears are ringing and he thinks Adam might be saying his name, but he cannot hear anything beyond the pounding of his own heartbeat.

“Mitch- Mitch, please, listen to me,” Adam’s voice shakes, pain and fear coloring it. Mitchell slams him against the railing, abandoning his gun in favor of grabbing Adam’s collar with both hands and hauling him in close. “Mitch, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Don’t call me that.” Mitchell is almost surprised by the sound of his own voice. It’s quiet, just above a whisper, and lethal. Emotionless. “You don’t deserve to call me that. You don’t deserve to fucking _look_ at me right now!”

Adam’s breath hitches as Mitchell draws him closer, faces less than an inch apart. Mitchell jostles his leg, reveling in the hiss of pain that filters through Adam’s gritted teeth. “I’m s-” He interrupts himself with a panting breath, agony saturating his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- please listen to me. Just-”

“You lost the right to beg for your life when you killed me.” 

Their breaths mingle as they stand, silent for a split second. Adam’s eyes flutter shut, and Mitchell can feel a warmth spreading across his leg as the other’s wound seeps blood into the fabric of his pants. Mitch knows he’s bleeding out. The man Mitchell thought he knew opens his eyes, resignation evident in the tightness across his face. He can hear Adam murmuring apologies under his breath, punctuated by heaving gasps.

The anger simmers down in Mitchell’s chest, replaced with slow-burning exhaustion. He wants this to be over. He wants to be done already. To finish losing everything he managed to keep for himself in his hunt for revenge. He wants to not be in this situation. He wants Adam to be anyone else. He wants.

He wishes this could’ve gone differently.

“I never wanted it to be you.”

Their foreheads lean together, tipping to rest against each other as they both breathe in silence. Adam’s strength is flagging, the man resigned to his death. Mitch is finishing what he started. Finally getting what he deserves. He’s never felt more hollow.

“I love you.” Adam’s voice is weak, hushed. He says it like it’s something special, like it should mean something. Mitchell doesn’t know if that’s true anymore. He feels as if someone has reached into him and picked out every bit inside his chest. He can’t bear to look at Adam.

Their lips meet quietly, and it’s familiar and foreign simultaneously. Mitchell has done this countless times, and yet. And yet and yet and yet. Adam’s mouth tastes like copper, tastes like the clang of a crowbar against his skin, and the slick gel of clotting blood. The other whispers an apology to his lips as if it’s a promise, and Mitch leans back, meets Adam’s eyes. 

He doesn’t know if he can believe him. What is a promise to a man who has done nothing but lie for decades.

They kiss again, closing the distance once more, and Adam’s lips are cold. Their time is up. Mitchell allows Adam to push everything he couldn’t say into that final kiss and pretends as if he is not mourning.

They pull apart. Mitch won’t allow himself to meet Adam’s eyes.

This is better. Adam deserves this. He will die, and Mitch will live, and that is how it should be.

“I loved you, once.” He tilts Adam back, bending him slightly over the railing. Adam knows what is to come. 

“I don’t think I do anymore.”

Something hard presses against Mitchell’s hand, and he realizes that Adam is pushing a knife into his palm.

“Don’t-” His body shudders. “Don’t make me die in the water.”

Mitchell takes the knife slowly and presses it to Adam’s chest, angling it so that it’ll reach his heart. The other’s hand, slick with blood, reaches up to grip at Mitch’s wrist.

They push forwards together.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh. hey :-). wrote this for the sexy bitches in the hdtf channel in the hlvrai/hl discord, if ur reading this I'm sorry <3\. love u guys xoxoxoxo
> 
> title is from "His Hands" by Blegh
> 
> find me on tumblr @dxisychains (main), @fxrzen (hl/hlvrai), or @adamshephard (hdtf, gross ik)


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